Madam Life's a Piece in Bloom
Madam Life's a piece in bloom
Death goes dogging everywhere:
She's the tenant of the room,
He's the ruffian on the stair.
You shall see her as a friend,
You shall bilk him once or twice;
But he'll trap you in the end,
And he'll stick you for her price.
With his kneebones at your chest,
And his knuckles in your throat,
You would reason -- plead -- protest!
Clutching at her petticoat;
But she's heard it all before,
Well she knows you've had your fun,
Gingerly she gains the door,
And your little job is done.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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L8,2212
There is a door which you open
you enter, and then it closes you
behind you
forever,
there is no force here,
but only volition,
you enter it
with all the warnings,
that the
possibility that it will close forever
has been told to you
over and over
again,
somehow, you do not make it a problem
you like a closed door, and you hate it
when it opens,
you love it when it is closed forever,
the room is nice
there is a certain loveliness
in there,
it has shiny floors,
it has a bright ceiling,
the lights are lovely,
like stars
in an open dark sky
the air is fresh,
the walls are comfortable
who wants to take an exit?
no one.not you.
when the door knows this, it will open
forever,
it decides to open for you
and it will tell you to go out and be
an outsider again and
be gone
for good,
you insist that you own this room now,
that a closed door is not a serious matter
and there is no way that you have to
go out
or be ousted,
the door has a stair with strong hands
and it will drag you out
it will pull your hair and drag your body
like hell
the door has learned its lesson
when the room is not a prison to someone else
there is no use keeping him there forever
for in truth the reason of the door's
existence
is to make you feel the prison and to suffer
and you know your lesson too well
there is no prison to a mind that is an open window
there is no suffering
to a lover of suffering
you see, it takes a little reverse psychology
for closed doors to open
for men to know that suffering is not suffering
at all
when one loves is tripping
when one thinks
otherwise
when one loves whatever happens
when one accepts
the one that is there and not look for something
that is always missing
why go for the unreachable?
why suffer for long?
life is life, and death is death
you are here, grab this here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Self Portrait
My friend, leave before you fall into my trap
My friend, I’m not what I pretend to be
My friend, I’ll only scar you
My friend, you chose the wrong fiend to befriend
My friend, I backstab all who trust me
My friend, I lie to all who speak so fondly of my deeds
My friend, I’ll bring nothing more than trouble to your doorstep
My friend, I’ll never be there when you call
My friend, I’m addicted to this way of life
My friend, I only care for things that add to my pathetic ruin
My friend, I don’t care for anybody but myself
My friend, I’m what your mother said a devil might turn out to be
My friend, I’m not proud of all of this
My friend, I’m simply honest and indiscreet
My friend, I’m losing but I’m happy and relaxed
My friend, I think you should stick around for another night and try your luck
poem by Dmitriy Kokarev
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Death Trap
I see you runnin
Youre gone
A million miles away
But you know Im comin
Violenz that
Blows you into space
And you think
Youre gonna get away
Like you did before
But youre the type
I never feel sorry for, so
Fall into my death trap
Fall into my death trap
Lifes paranoia
Youre hiding in
The dark all day
At nite I call you
Cause I know
Youre always wide awake
So you never
Sleep at all at nite
Extermination
Of youre wasted life
So now Ive got you
Youre cornered like a fool
I terminate you
Live by my golden rule
Task complete
And once again Ive won
Now I search
For another victim to come
I cant explain the sheer
Thrill of it all
Its such a chill
To watch the meek just fall
Death trap death trap
Death trap death trap
Fall in
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Held Up With Just A Stick
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Anne Allen
The wind blew keenly from the Western sea,
And drove the dead leaves slanting from the tree--
Vanity of vanities, the Preacher saith--
Heaping them up before her Father's door
When I saw her whom I shall see no more--
We cannot bribe thee, Death.
She went abroad the falling leaves among,
She saw the merry season fade, and sung--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
Freely she wandered in the leafless wood,
And said that all was fresh, and fair, and good--
She knew thee not, O Death.
She bound her shining hair across her brow,
She went into the garden fading now;
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
And if one sighed to think that it was sere,
She smiled to think that it would bloom next year!
She feared thee not, O Death.
Blooming she came back to the cheerful room
With all the fairer flowers yet in bloom--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
A fragrant knot for each of us she tied,
And placed the fairest at her Father's side--
She cannot charm thee, Death.
Her pleasant smile spread sunshine upon all;
We heard her sweet clear laughter in the Hall--
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
We heard her sometimes after evening prayer,
As she went singing softly up the stair--
No voice can charm thee, Death.
Where is the pleasant smile, the laughter kind,
That made sweet music of the winter wind?
Vanity of vanities the Preacher saith--
Idly they gaze upon her empty place,
Her kiss hath faded from her Father's face--
She is with thee, O Death.
poem by Edward Fitzgerald
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Christmas Eve
Snow flakes seem to do a majestic dance in the air;
Or so it appears at the opening of the chapel door.
Gingerly walking down the front marble stair,
I head into the darkness with holiday joy in store.
Warmed by the spirit of celebrating the Holy Birth,
I ride the bus homeward through the pristine snow.
The street scene is one of colorful lights and mirth,
With a bitter gust of wind pushing one and all to and fro.
It feels as if it's the same over the entire universe;
Nothing but serenity and delight up and down the street,
As I run to my door before the weather gets worse.
Oh the joy of being home at Christmas in my cozy retreat.
Off I go to slumber comfortably in the warmth of my bed.
With dreams of cherubs and angels caroling in a sleigh
And visions of my girl Celesta dancing stately in my head,
I am entertained by thoughts of the joy of the coming day.
poem by Albert Price
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Piece Of Crap (Eddie Vedder & Ministry) (White Label Demo)
Neil Young) (various dates)
Tried to save the trees, bought a plastic bag
The bottom fell out, it was a piece 'a crap...piece of crap...
Wanted an LP, only had CD's
Digitally clean, it was a piece of crap...piece of crap...
Bought myself a can, thought it'd take me far
The dealer was a liar, he was a piece of crap...piece of crap...
Got it from my friend, on him you can depend
I found out in the end, it was a piece of crap...piece of crap...
I'm trying to save the trees, I saw it on TV
They cut the forest down to build a piece of crap...piece of crap...
Picked up a magazine to read about the scene
It didn't tell me beans, it was a piece of crap...piece of crap...
I went back to the store, they gave me four more
The guy told me at the door it was a piece of crap...
It was a piece of crap
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Knuckles
Smack dab flat on my back
The solid ground began to crack
I pulled her down and down and down
I lost my breath
I thought I'd drown
Fistfuls of you
Fistfuls of you
You pulled me through with white knuckles
Fistfuls of you
Fistfuls of you
You pulled me through with white knuckles
Her leg, my hand, a smoldering brand
Sticking to her wet body like sand
Her place, distaste, we fell from grace
Red smears across her face
Fistfuls of you
Fistfuls of you
You pulled me through with white knuckles
Fistfuls of you
Fistfuls of you
You pulled me through with white knuckles
White knuckles!
White knuckles!
White knuckles!
White knuckles
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Astigmatism
Decoding the self-portrait
in false exposure from me
to light. The wounds hide
the smell of alienation.
The infinite was never
created, as biological father.
Crestfallen wallflowers went to protest.
If you could find a god on the road.
you must ask for the reason of
astigmatic vision.
There was an uncanny feeling;
somebody was watching you. Afraid
not to see; time was making room for you.
Answer becomes a question mark.
Don't shut the door.
Death will walk with you.
poem by Satish Verma
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Hanchen, the Maid of the Mill
Near the village of Udorf, on the banks of the Rhine,
There lived a miller and his family, once on a time;
And there yet stands the mill in a state of decay,
And concerning the miller and his family, attend to my lay.
The miller and his family went to Church one Sunday morn,
Leaving behind their darling child, the youngest born,
In charge of brave Hanchen, the servant maid,
A kind-hearted girl and not the least afraid.
As Hanchen was engaged preparing dinner for the family
She chanced to turn round, and there she did see
Heinrich Bottler, her lover, and she sincerely loved him,
Then she instantly got him something to eat and bade him begin.
And in the midst of her business she sat down beside him,
While he did justice to the meat and thought it no sin,
But while he was eating he let fall his knife,
Then he commanded Hanchen to pick it up or else he'd take her life.
Then as she stooped down to pick up the knife,
The villain caught her by the throat, and swore he'd take her life,
Then he drew a dagger from under his coat,
Crying, tell me where your master's money is, or I'll cut your throat.
And still he threatened to kill her with the dagger in his hand,
If the poor girl didn't comply with his demand,
While in his choking grasp her breath was fleeting faster and faster,
Therefore she had no other choice but to die or betray her master.
Then she cried, mercy, for Heaven's sake let go thy hold.
And I'll tell thee where my master keeps his gold;
Then he let go his hold without delay,
And she unto him thus boldly did say.
Here, take this axe and use it, while I run upstairs,
To gather all my money, besides all my wares,
Because I'm resolved to fly along with you,
When you've robbed my master of his gold and bid France adieu.
Then deceived by her plan he allowed her to leave the room,
Telling her to make haste and come back very soon,
Then to her master's bedroom she led the way,
And showed him the coffer where her master's money lay
Then Heinrich with the axe broke the coffer very soon,
While Hanchen instead of going upstairs to her room,
Bolted all the doors upon him without dismay,
While Heinrich was busy preparing to carry her master's money away.
Then she rushed to the mill to give the alarm,
Resolved to protect her master's money, while she could wield an arm;
And the only being in sight was her master's boy of five years old,
Then she cried, run! run! and tell father there's a robber taking his gold.
Then the boy did as she bid him without any doubt,
And set off, running on the road she pointed out;
But at this moment, a shrill whistle made her stand aghast,
When she heard Heinrich, crying, catch that child that's running so fast.
But still the boy ran on with might and main,
Until a ruffian sprang up from the bed of a natural drain;
And snatching the boy in his arms, and hastening towards the mill,
While brave Hanchen was afraid the boy would he kill.
Then the villain came rushing with the boy towards the mill,
Crying, open the door, or the child I'll kill;
But she cried, never will I open the door to thee,
No! I will put my trust in God, and He'll save the child and me.
Then the ruffian set down the child, for a moment to look about,
Crying, open the door, or I'll fire the mill without doubt;
And while searching for combustibles, he discovered an inlet to the mill,
Saying, my pretty maid, once I get in, it's you I will kill.
Then he tied the hands and feet of the poor child,
Which caused it to scream with fear, very wild;
Then he stole back to the aperture to effect an entrance,
And when Hanchen saw him, she said now is my chance.
So the ruffian got safely in the great drum wheel,
Then Hanchen set on the engine, which made the ruffian reel;
And as he was whirled about, he screamed aloud,
And when Hanchen saw him like a rat in a trap, she felt very proud.
At length the master arrived and his family,
And when she heard his kindly voice her heart was full of glee,
Then she opened the mill door and let him in,
While her eyes with tears of joy were full to the brim.
Then the master set off the engine without delay,
And the ruffian was dragged forth while he shook with dismay,
And Heinrich and he were bound together under a strong escort,
And conveyed to Bonn Prison where villains resort.
So thus ends the story of Hanchen, a heroine brave,
That tried hard her master's gold to save,
And for her bravery she got married to the miller's eldest son,
And Hanchen on her marriage night cried Heaven's will be done.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Fuddy
On my room
To the floor bed...
I was tasted
With the
My girl friend
Chest bun...
Toung was play
Bun of chest...
Mouth wanted
Milk...
Not for the
Chest bun....
No weat
No sweet
No salt..
Not for the bun...
Meet taste
Vegtable taste
Also not ther;
Chest bun
Taste for
With big and
Beauty...! ! !
And fuddy
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Stick N' Move
STICK N' MOVE
This is how it's done going for the title and crown
Where now MC's surround as the beat breaks down
In 2 elements clobbin' up those that have been blessed
And as the M-I see the way it ought to be ponessed
Yes, yes am I the one to keep you on your toes
Definitaly in my b-boy pose, thea let your ? like twist
Touch your chin to your chest to the rhythm like this
Chorus:
Now see what I have, I want you
Be with me or Stick n' Move
Now see what I had, I want you
Be with me or Stick n' Move
MC's dogging me since the first day I grabbed the mic
Now it's likeS it, Stay
Cobra path lifestyles i'm kickin'
Stickin' MC's real quick 'cause times tickin'
At the drop of the defense, I let loose the venom
Sendin', I try to verbal heat up venom
The ending will come, grab your family and run
Apocalyptic rhyme pattern taking shots from the sun
Record in the people , four-thousand-eighty-one
Question my intentions and your whole world is done
Like wars to Rome, turn your eyeballs into Saturn
Full metal jacket fully auto rhyme pattern
Chorus
Stick it, rock it for a click and a whicket
Move it, moving all the tunes and you groove it (4x)
Chorus
song performed by by Linkin Park
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A whisper of a hush Motif
A vagrant scribbbler just completed few lines.
A piece of creative writing and it's expressing
his inner feelings.
The narrator of the poem is a feminine gender
who made a protest quietly
and the poet was shocked simultaneously.
He sees the little woman a featherweight
who stimulates on the lines
and he heard of her whispering.
'Hey! my dear stick-in-the-mud
why you forced me to involve
with this baronet sexless?
Still the idiot expect a virgin baroness.
How could I be a virgin
after sleeping the half of my precious life
with a notorious poet?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Break Down The Door
Music by: Barry Manilow and Bob Gaudio
Lyrics by: Enoch Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm not the man I used to be
Fell down a time or two
When luck was lookin' out for me
I missed the knock
And never knew
I let you go
But you can't get away from me again
Do you want me to plead?
Do you want me to cry?
Any proof that you need
Any promise you'll buy
Do you want me to break down the door
Do you want me to break down the door
Break down the door
You say you saw me lose control
Look now I'm in the lead
And you can have me heart and soul
I'm overhauled
And guaranteed
What do you say
Why don't you take a chance
on me again
Do you want me to plead?
Do you want me to cry?
Any proof that you need
Any promise you'll buy
Do you want me to break down the door
Do you want me to break down the door
Break down the door
Can't say for sure what's comin'
It ain't what's gone before
Except we had some damn good times
And I know we both want more
Do you want me to plead?
Do you want me to cry?
Any proof that you need
Any promise you'll buy
Do you want me to break
Do you want me to break down
Do you want me to break down the
Do you want me to break down the door
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The reason i want death?
The reason i want death?
That is a simple question.
The reason i want death?
Is it becuz im emo?
The reason i want death?
Cuz she's gone now.
The reason i want death?
Cuz im not loved.
The reason i want death?
Cuz i love her.
The reason i want death?
Cuz im dark.
THE REASON I WANT DEATH IS BECUZ I HATE MY LIFE! ! !
poem by Dylan Griffin
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Done
I am done with love for you made it that way
I can't go on another day
I hit rock bottom and i feel like shit
I can give up others say i can't quit
but i am never happy i am always depressed
I have a whole in the center of my chest
I want to die but i can't
for I might still have a chance
I can't concentrate on what your saying
Your face in my head is replaying
I look at you and scream inside
I see your eyes and fight not to cry
You smile at me like everything is alright
While i sit in my room thinking of suicide everynight
I won't call that stupid hotline number
For i'd rather just plumet under
If i died it might be better
That way you don't have to forget her
I wish i could be yours but i can't
I am screwed with romance
I won't find love for that i knew for sure
When you walked out of my life sealing the door
The door to my heart that i opened for you
the door that I can't make new
I want to die so badly
I honestly don't think anyone understands me
i try so hard to keep a smile on my face
but it gets harder with everyday
I can picture myself hanging from the noose
Death is what i want but for some reason I can't choose
I wish that you could see my pain and take it away
But you don't care you show it by walking away
poem by Jean Pullman
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Little girl, little girl! !
Little girl, little girl,
Hiding in the cuboard.
Clutching Mr. Teddy.
Little girl, little girl,
They know you're in there,
You cannot hide forever.
You've heard the screams,
You've heard the threats,
The whole show like a radio
Now the final scene comes.
You heard the plates go 'smash'
And you heard the doors slamm
You see the blood run under the door.
They're looking for you, little girl,
Stay still, stay very very still.
Little girl, little girl,
It's safe to come out now.
Open the door slowly
And don't make a sound.
Come out, little girl,
I'm here. I'm alive. I'm waiting for you.
poem by Becky Ginn
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Smalltown Trap
Written by max collins
Suffocate from lack of stimulation
Television time
Gonna break with every bead of sweat
My heart hate seems to climb
My friend and I stick to the tired couches
Please pass the time
I found a dime under the corner cushion
Wishing it was some place else and so do i
Smalltown trap with dreams of breaking out
Here I sit and bake my face is breaking out
Satans in the living room choking me with apathy
Smalltown trap with dreams of breaking out
Inspire me cause if you dont I think Ill dissipate to dust
The liar in me says somethings gonna happen soon because it must
My friend and I stick to the tired couches
Please pass the time
I found a dime under the corner cushion
Wishing it was some place else and so do i
Community immunity is the shot I crave
A sleepless sleep slow motion dream wanna dig my grave
Time ticks away on the longest day
Wanna break away on the longest day
song performed by by Eve 6
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your husband strays, Madam..
After a day's work, I am at bed,
Dormant memories erupt in me to shed,
Tear of hot liquid to wet my night blouse,
Hear the feeble knock at the door, a mouse,
When open the door, have the shock of the life,
There stands the Boss with scratching ‘head',
Push me into the room to lock my hip,
When I try to scream, he locks my lips,
Thinking of my family back at my village,
Thinking of the loan that we mortgage,
Thinking of the welfare of the loved ones,
If I scream, Madam will be awake,
Depart me in the next available flight,
The brute starts to squeeze my breasts,
I push him and tell him not to violate,
He is on his knees to beg for stolen honey,
A man, who is a leader to millions of citizens,
Cries as a baby to steal my virtues,
I heard about the crocodile's tear,
In my native land, before it tears,
The body and the heart, ' stop it,
Sir, get out of here' I can't shout,
My hungry children will be hungrier,
Madam, please take away your carrier,
Are we here to do the house work,
Or take care of your husband, a sneak?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Contemplation On The Climbing Of The Stairs...
as i climb the stair
i always think what is up there
when i arrive there
the door is closed
and i am thinking why
contemplating on the other possibilities
shall i open the door
and ask myself in
what if there is nobody there
what if it is just a door and there is nothing inside
i sit on the the last step
and i think again
what if it is not the stair after all
but only the ground
or the pebble or the grass
what if it is only myself and there is nobody else
what if i am just dreaming
what if i am nothing at all
but a thought
without weight without volume
what if this is all about air
a breath a hush a slip?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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